Regretful Farewell
by SlvrSoleAlchmst1
Summary: Our ZAFT boys visit a lost comrade's grave, but Dearka's memory is foggy. He watches as his best friend breaks down, and he realizes that things aren't quite what they seem.


Dearka blinked his violet eyes in the glimmering sunlight, as he made his way slowly down the meandering sidewalk before him. His body felt numb, his memory foggy, as if he'd just awakened from a dream turned nightmare. He glanced wordlessly at the two in front of him — a very solemn Athrun and a scowling Yzak — and at once he felt a nauseous wave engulf him as he recalled where they were going. They were visiting the grave of their fallen comrade.

Neither of them had been there before, for the blonde recalled Yzak saying something about the site being fairly new. Although the Blitz pilot had passed on nearly a month earlier, Dearka could see why Nicol's parents had waited before deciding whether they wanted a marker for their son's nonexistent remains. At once the tanned Coordinator flinched at his own morbid thoughts. Imagine having not a scrap of the body left to identify.

And then they were there.

All three soldiers of ZAFT stood, heads bowed, before the pitiful mound of earth that held every memory, every moment, every heartache. The ground that now huddled softly in one sunlit spot represented each feeling of hatred for the pitiless fate that had taken him, each cry of anguish and grief that had echoed upon his falling.

Yzak let out a growl, then quieted. "Fucking hell," he murmured bitterly, scrutinizing the small marker that would forever serve as the reminder of his former teammate. "That's all he gets? Fucking hell, that idiot deserved better." His voice wavered in a strange way that Dearka had never heard before.

Athrun moved to stand next to the pale youth, bending to read the simple script in silence. When he straightened, he spoke in a subdued voice, and Yzak listened.

"It's no one's fault, Yzak," he insisted gently, reaching up to place a comforting hand on the other boy's shoulder. "There was nothing either of us could have done. He made his choice. It was brave."

Dearka was not surprised to see the silver-headed boy jerk violently as he pulled away from the intrusive touch. "Don't tell me what he did was brave," he shot, fire in his blue eyes as he all but hollered, "Because it wasn't! It was foolish, and so he died like a fool, because he didn't take the time to think before he wasted his stupid life!"

For a moment Athrun's azure eyes widened, but the shock didn't last. "You don't mean that," he concluded, turning away and fixing his gaze on the freshly dug earth, "You don't really think he was such an idiot," he pressed, waiting to see what the response would be.

Yzak remained mute, staring at the gray stone in frustration.

"I can't believe it's come to this," Athrun said a while after, and the blonde could detect a faint hint of remorse in his cool, smooth tone. "I can't believe he's gone."

"Shut up," the Duel pilot commanded, straining to keep from shouting again. "Just shut the fuck up."

Athrun looked at him despondently, with a hint of pity in his eyes. And then he squinted them shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, and sunk to the ground as if weak from it all. "All I want to know is why," he pronounced.

The opposite boy tossed his silver hair and bit his lower lip with rage. "You tell me, _Commander_," he spat, balling his hands into fists. "It's just us now."

Dearka let the words rush over him. _Just us._ They had begun with six. Now their number had been cut to half that. They could still manage as a team, but the pain of their loss would not fade quickly. The blonde scanned the distraught faces of his two fellow Coordinators, wondering vaguely why he hadn't yet felt the need to speak. It wasn't that he had nothing to say. On the contrary, his heart overflowed with emotion, yet the ability to voice it in words had seemed to disappear. Then he jumped upon hearing Yzak's wild yell.

"WHY'D YOU DO IT, YOU STUPID SON OF A BITCH?" the outraged boy called to the open air in vain, "YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO! WHY DIDN'T YOU KNOW THAT? WHY DIDN'T YOU THINK? Now you'll never come back, and you know what, you fucking bastard? It serves you right. I'm not going to miss you." The wretched outburst had carried with it a maddening fury and sorrow.

The blue-haired boy looked stunned. "But Yzak, he did it to save—"

"I know that!" the other cut him off fiercely. "But it doesn't explain why he had to die. It doesn't explain a god damned thing!"

"It's not something that's so easy to explain," Athrun replied in a low monotone.

"I don't care! It isn't fair." His hands trembled.

"I know."

Immediately Yzak whirled on him, an incomprehensible rage stamped across his features. "No," he countered, "No, you _don't_ know. You have no idea what it's like, Zala."

At that Athrun sprung to his feet, his temper rising. "I know just as well as you do what it's like to lose someone," he breathed, seizing the paler boy by the collar aggressively. "When Nicol called out to me, when he told me to run and then was murdered right before my eyes, what did you think I was feeling? Don't tell me I don't know." He let go roughly, thrusting his adversary away in disgust.

"I-it's different," Yzak choked out, baffling Dearka with his lack of desire to defend himself against the being he'd so long claimed to loathe.

"How is it so different?" the azure-eyed youth gritted.

"I can't explain it, I just…"

At once Athrun's harsh look softened. "Just think of all the time you two spent together, and remember the good things that happened."

The silver-haired male shook his head bitterly. "It's not that simple."

Dearka blinked his hazy violet orbs, his mind feeling muddled and raw. The blonde had always thought that the reserved Aegis pilot had been the one closest to the deceased pianist, but now Athrun was unusually collected. Perhaps he'd already come to grips with the change. Perhaps he'd made a vow of vengeance and was content to hold back his emotions until Nicol's death could be compensated. Or perhaps _Yzak_ was simply reacting more rashly because he felt guilty.

Dearka's suspicions were confirmed as the pale boy went on. "I never meant the things I said to him," he revealed softly. "The names I called him, the way I shouted at him and blamed him for everything. I never meant any of it."

"I'm sure he knows that," Athrun told him, watching the unmoving grave.

It was at that moment the Buster pilot realized that Yzak had begun to cry. His heart skipped a beat in his astonishment. He hadn't expected his best friend to shed tears on such an occasion, but apparently he had been wrong, and the sight of the phenomenon pained him. To see his companion in such a weakened state left him feeling empty, as if there was nothing on earth he could do to return the pale youth to his usual, ill-humored state. He'd always been there to calm Yzak down when his temper flared out of control, but this…this was different. He wondered suddenly if he still ought to try. Instead he slammed his fist against the trunk of the tall oak that stood next to the tombstone, and Yzak lifted his head just slightly at the sound.

"God damn it, Dearka," the silver-headed boy exclaimed, reaching up to swipe a hand across his dampened cheek, ashamed.

And suddenly the blonde found his voice. "I'm sorry, Yzak," he spoke quite clearly, taking a small step forward, "It's just…I don't know how to handle this either."

There was a long pause in which the Duel pilot remained deep in thought, but then he whispered, "You idiot." It was barely audible.

The tanned Coordinator sagged in relief. "You'll be okay," he assured him, "Everything will be all right."

"Everything will be fine," Athrun said, and Dearka's attention rolled to the son of Patrick Zala in confusion, wondering why he'd just been echoed.

"I don't need your sympathy," Yzak responded dryly, and Athrun shrugged in defeat.

Dearka murmured low into the ear of the blue-headed youth, careful to keep his best friend from hearing their exchange. "Let him be for now," he advised strategically, knowing that in time the other boy would calm down on his own. Athrun shifted slightly, but did not reply.

"Let's go," the Aegis pilot urged, "We can't do much else here, and he wouldn't want us to stand around like it's the end of the world."

Yzak didn't bother to grace his superior with an answer. His blue eyes stayed locked on the stone marker, a steady slideshow of emotion flickering across his face.

"What would you have said, Dearka," the pale boy addressed the tanned soldier without looking at him, "If you had been able to speak just now? I bet you'd laugh at me and tell me to get myself a girlfriend." An embittered half-smile curled the corners of his lips.

"Probably," the Buster pilot agreed, attempting to lighten the mood with a touch of his usual, caustic humor, "But right now I think I'd rather offer you some tissues, crybaby."

Yzak walked past him, pausing a moment with his back to the grave, while Athrun waited farther down the path. "Did you think your life was worth less than mine?" the pale youth inquired aloud in parting. "Did you think I was actually worthy to be alive while you got stuck in a stupid heap of dirt? You didn't have to sacrifice yourself for my sake, you know."

"_Your_ sake?" Dearka wondered, becoming annoyed when he received no acknowledgement, "Nicol did it to save _Athrun_. What are you talking—" But he stopped short, paling as he listened to the next sentence that came stumbling out of the other boy's mouth.

"Damn it, Elsman, you're such a fool." Yzak's shoulders quaked. "What am I supposed to do without you? It's hard to say goodbye."

The tanned Coordinator halted in his tracks; his feet had frozen to their spot on the sunny sidewalk. He watched in dismay and horror as his best friend passed by him, walking away in the direction they had first come, Athrun trailing respectfully behind. And it suddenly hit him. The truth came together in one massive maelstrom of flashes of color and clips of sound, of him screaming and the enemy bearing down and the Duel in dire peril.

And then Dearka Elsman smiled rather serenely, though he sure would miss his best friend.

"Without me?" he echoed, speaking to no one save the quiet spring afternoon, "I want you to stay just the way you are, Yzak. See ya." He savored the rays of warmth that sunk into his skin and closed his cool, violet eyes.

And a picture became clear, one that hadn't registered before. The script on the tombstone that they'd all stood in front of.

_Dearka Elsman, soldier of ZAFT_

_C.E. 54 – C.E. 71_

_Rest In Peace_

* * *

_A/N: Oh gods. I fear I've killed this terribly. I was going for something really heart wrenching, but I think I fell short. And I apologize if Yzak seemed a little OOC. I tried hard to convey his grief. Oh my god, I've failed so miserably. I think in the future I'll stick to humor and action, because I murder sad scenes. _


End file.
